


Nightmare

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 14:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14058807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'A fluffy fic where Till has a nightmare and Richard comforts him'Can do! Poor beef husband...





	Nightmare

Richard wasn’t sure what had woken him up - he lay there, staring at the ceiling of Till’s guest bedroom, and listened out. The flat seemed quiet, and he couldn’t really figure out what had disturbed him - until he heard the kitchen door open, and a quiet cough, and he sat up.

Grabbing a t-shirt, he pulled it on, and made his way out into the hallway. All was dark and quiet, but he turned to the kitchen anyway, and pushed the door open. Till stood there in his ragged, battered old dressing gown - _you can’t teach an old dog_ , Richard thought - leaning out of the window and smoking.

“<Hey,>” Richard said, quietly, and Till turned his head, nodding. “<You okay?>”

“Mmhmm.” Till looked outside again. “<Sorry if I woke you.>”

“<No. It’s fine.>” Richard sat at the table, and Till threw him the cigarette packet. “<So… any reason you’re awake, you antisocial fuck?>” Till smiled lopsidedly, and Richard took out a cigarette, grabbing the lighter next to the ashtray.

“<I had a nightmare.>” Richard nodded, and sparked up. “<Nothing special.>”

“<Go on.>” Till shrugged, and exhaled smoke out of the window. “<Share with me. Share with your old buddy. Your old pal.>” Till snorted, and sighed.

“<I was at a swimming pool I used to practise at, in my swimming trunks, and I was young again.>” Richard nodded slowly, green eyes fixed on the back of Till’s head. “<And it was empty. The pool. It was abandoned.>” He shrugged.

“<Sounds creepy. Didn’t we film that?>” Richard asked, and Till sighed.

“<People were coming for a show and I didn’t know what to do and I was so frightened because if I was caught there, I was… in trouble.>” Richard knew what he was alluding to. He didn’t need to press further. They’d all shared that situation. “<And I woke up and I thought I’d come for a smoke. Sorry for waking you.>”

“<Not a problem.>” Richard wandered over, leaning against the window. “<You okay now?>” Till was avoiding his eyes, and Richard reached out, touching his arm. “<Till->” Next second, Till had grabbed him, hugging him tightly, and Richard grabbed him, inhaling and flicking the barely-smoked lit cigarette out of the window so he could pat his back. “<It’s fine. It’s okay.>”

“<I’m sorry.>” Till wasn’t crying; he was stony, but he was clinging onto Richard as if Richard were about to fly out the window after the cigarette, and Richard stroked his back. “<I’m so sorry.>”

“<Don’t be a dickhead, everyone needs a moment sometimes.>” Richard sighed. “<Do you want to crash in the living room? We can have a _sleepover_. Like _girls_. >” Till laughed, but he still didn’t let go of Richard, and Richard held him tightly. “<It’s okay.>”

“<Oh god, Richard, does it ever go away?>” Till asked, and Richard held his breath. He couldn’t answer that. Not truthfully. He just settled for stroking Till’s hair a little more, and Till finally stood up. There were still no tears on his cragged cheeks.

“<Let’s go into the living room, okay?>” he said, and Till nodded. “<Let’s play… fuck it, do you still have that Xbox?>” The look on Till’s face made him smile. “<I’m going to own you at whatever games you have.>”

“<If the fucker turns on, it’s ancient.>” Till smiled. “<You’re in your boxers.>”

“<Be thankful I didn’t come out here with my dick out thinking you were being burgled. Or fans had gotten in. Let’s go.>” Richard grinned, and guided him out of the room. Maybe, with the light of the TV, the night would feel less oppressive.


End file.
